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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031888">I am mine, I am yours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncityinthehouse/pseuds/ncityinthehouse'>ncityinthehouse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - After College/University, College professors, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Proximity, M/M, Minor Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, New York City, Snowed In</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:40:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncityinthehouse/pseuds/ncityinthehouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Taeyong wakes up naked in a stranger's bed with little memory of the night before, and no phone (or clothes) in sight, he thinks his morning can’t really get worse. Then Taeyong realizes it’s not a stranger’s bed at all, it’s Johnny Suh’s bed — his infuriating, stupidly-handsome, bane-of-Taeyong’s-existence, annoyingly smart colleague, Johnny Suh — and Taeyong thinks that now it really, really can’t get worse. And then Johnny tells him they’re trapped in the apartment for the foreseeable future because of the snow storm that Taeyong failed to remember was occurring. </p><p>Or, NYU Ceramics professor, Lee Taeyong, finds that missing piece of his heart in the place he last expects: the arms of his nemesis, Lit professor Johnny Suh, in a weekend of new beginnings, surprising realizations, and lots, and lots, of sex.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>534</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. black silk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/valcalin/gifts">valcalin</a>.</li>



    </ul><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>welcome to another chaptered johnyong fic ! </p><p>this is a bit of a self indulgent fic with a little bit of everything, but most importantly, some solid enemies to lovers ;) </p><p>shoutout to my beta pam, I am useless without her these days :)</p><p>last but certainly not least, a BIG happy bday to my dear girl val, ily and hope you enjoy 💗🌸</p><p>happy reading ~~ 🦋🦋🦋</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing Taeyong notices when he wakes up is that he’s absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>freezing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the air numbingly cold around him, his body stiff and uncomfortable. He shoves his face further into his pillow with a low groan, searching for any lingering warmth as he throws out a lazy hand to feel around for his comforter. He aches to cocoon himself in the furry fabric, his legs already starting to curl his body into a tight ball from muscle memory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong had already grown disgustingly fond of his plush black comforter, an early Christmas gift from Doyoung that he claimed he had only bought because Doyoung </span>
  <em>
    <span>“finally got tired of hearing him bitch about being so cold all the time.”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s not to say that Taeyong can really </span>
  <em>
    <span>control</span>
  </em>
  <span> the heat in his bedroom, of course; the shitty insulation in his bedroom comes from the combination of his shitty teaching salary and the shitty housing situation in the City. Hell, maybe Taeyong doesn’t have much heat during the winter, but at least he doesn’t have a mice infestation like Mark does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, when Taeyong reaches down, hand wandering aimlessly behind him, he doesn’t feel his fur comforter. No, when he throws his hand out, he feels something that feels oddly quite like silk sheets. He pauses for a second, his hand lingering on the slip of the silky material between his fingers, before struggling to a sitting position, his legs tangled in the sheets as his head thumps against the headboard, eyes flying open as he has his next two realizations all at once:</span>
</p><p> </p>
<ol>
<li>
<span> This is </span><em><span>not </span></em><span>Taeyong’s bed, and consequently </span><em><span>not </span></em><span>Taeyong’s home.</span>
</li>
<li><span> Taeyong is absolutely, completely, bare as the day he was born, butt-ass-naked. </span></li>
</ol><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s eyes slip back shut as he moves to rub the growing ache in his temples, trying and promptly failing, to recall how his night ended, and how he got himself into this mess. If his astounding headache has anything to say about it, Taeyong really doesn’t have to guess why there are large gaps in his memory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Last night had been Yuta’s 25th birthday, the annual ridiculous celebration of how the fuck Yuta made it another year being held at their favorite bar in Manhattan. Mind, a bar that none of them can actually afford, but still continue to go to each year for celebrations because Yuta “met” a member of Japan’s national team there once about five years ago and is </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>convinced he could get him to fall in love with him, if only Yuta got the chance to talk to him again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong thinks Yuta’s a drunk idiot, and probably met just a poor imitation of the man, but the bar has a specialty cocktail that he particularly likes, and they have a deal on tequila shots that’s hard to pass up, so he allows Yuta to continue his fantasy of finding a rich footballer husband in a bar in Manhattan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong sighs as he realizes there’s really not many details of the night that he actually does remember because </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he blacked-out for the first time in over a year because of Yuta, the world’s biggest pusher. Taeyong has been trying to be “good,” since he got his new job, but is convinced that Yuta could get him to do just about anything if he had a shot or too of alcohol in his system. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Taeyong’s memory is largely scrambled, but he at least somewhat recalls the beginning of the night — the ridiculous makeup that he let Yuta apply to his face, glitter probably still stuck to his skin from the sheer amount applied to his eyes and cheeks, on top of</span> <span>the ridiculous outfit he had been stuffed in, involving lots of black leather and far too much skin for someone his age. Yuta had pulled the “but it’s my birthday, Yongie, do it for me?” with his signature pout, and Taeyong’s resolve had crumbled out from under him, allowing himself to just sit in the makeup chair, doing Yuta’s bidding for the night. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong realizes with a wince that his memory of the night ends somewhere between his sixth shot of tequila that Jaehyun had bet he wouldn’t drink and a blow-job shot a stranger had bought him, some horrible concoction involving enough whipped cream for Taeyong to both make a fool of himself in front of a room full of people, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> make him gag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s eyes flutter open as he tries desperately to remember anything else from the night before. His eyes shift across the room rapidly, searching for any sign of where exactly the fuck he is, or how he ended up here, his eyes lingering on random objects strewn across the room, pleading for them to somehow tell him what he’s missing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He comes up with a complete blank, nothing about his surroundings even remotely familiar, but a strange sinking feeling fills his stomach, something rather close to a daunting mixture of regret and dread. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The black sheets, rather, the black </span>
  <em>
    <span>silk </span>
  </em>
  <span>sheets, (seriously, who is ostentatious enough to have black silk sheets?), are pooled loosely around his hips from when he sat up, the dark fabric a stark contrast against his pale skin.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s eyes widen comically when he takes in the ring of faint purple bruises lining his hips, the mark of strong hands holding his hips down, and then the darker bruises that lead a telling path below the sheets, a flash of a memory from last night hitting him like a train at the sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Strong hands push Taeyong’s hips down into the bed as he fights against the tight hold, hips snapping up into the air as a needy whine escapes from Taeyong’s lips at the lack of pressure. His back arches against cool sheets at the feeling of a mouth trailing lazy kisses down the middle of his chest, his body squirming underneath the teasing licks of a warm tongue, the drag of teeth across his burning skin as he works his way down Taeyong’s body. The pace is brutally slow, Taeyong’s dick dripping pre-cum onto his stomach, so hard it’s painful. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Need- need you. No-ow,” Taeyong stutters, his words cracking in a broken moan as his thighs start  to shake in anticipation, one of his legs thrown over the man’s shoulder, warm hands slipping from his hips to under his back, pulling him forward so Taeyong’s leg slips further down his back, his thigh now resting high on his shoulder, his hands twisted into the sheets in a vice grip. Taeyong’s hips buck up as the man finally touches him, following a vein from the base of his dick upwards with his tongue. Taeyong turns his head to muffle a scream when the man finally sucks the head of his dick into his mouth, the heat and pressure of his mouth threatening to push Taeyong over the edge already. The hand curled around his back slips lower, a slick finger dippi— </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong gulps as the memory cuts off almost as abruptly as it had surfaced, desperately willing himself to ignore the throbbing of his now semi-hard dick, tenting slightly underneath the black silk, his length twitching as he remembers the sound of a low voice letting out breathy moans in his ear, a shiver running down his spine as he remembers warm brown eyes bearing into his, silent command written in his gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath and thinks about the least sexy things possible — his grandmother in her underwear, the new clay he ordered for class, a duochrome glaze he saw in an article and wanted to research, math, the laundry he has to do when he gets home</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>After a few long moments he pulls himself together with a sigh; quite literally the last thing Taeyong needs right now is the embarrassment of whatever stranger he ended up going home with walking into Taeyong jacking off naked in his bed, on top of everything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That being said, he really hopes the guy is as attractive as Taeyong’s memory is trying to convince him he is. Maybe he’d want to do this again sometime, and save Taeyong the trouble of having to find a new person to go home with the next time he’s drunk and horny, and Yuta is being a bad influence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Taeyong contemplates that as he fails to come up with the rest of a face, just two hauntingly familiar brown eyes burned into the back of Taeyong’s memory. Attractive or not, it was the best sex Taeyong’s had in months, and that’s just from the brief glimpses of it he actually</span> <span>remembers. Maybe even the best sex of his life, given how fucking </span><em><span>sore </span></em><span>his whole body is. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Taeyong </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wishes he remembered more from the night before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong shifts his attention to the bedside table, hoping desperately that his phone will be there waiting for him and miraculously charged, only to realize that not only is his phone nowhere in sight, but his clothes are also nowhere to be found. He can only hope that he let one of his friends know he was going home with somebody last night, before he opens his phone to a million missed calls and a missing persons report. He wouldn’t put it past Doyoung, really. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>He groans, rubbing his hands over his face as he takes in his options. He can either stay naked and in bed and wait for the mystery man to come back into the room (an automatic </span><em><span>no</span></em><span>), or he can rummage through drawers until he finds some clothes, and wear those, and then get the fuck</span> <span>back home.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s ears perk up when he hears a distinctly familiar low voice mumble out a soft curse, the sound coming from just outside of the door, followed by the clash of something hitting the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, fuck, fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s body goes stiff, sitting up further in the bed as he waits for the door to open, only to sigh in relief when he hears soft footsteps walking away, his body slumping against the headboard in relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he deems it safe, he shoots out of bed, flying across the room to the dresser, pulling out the first t-shirt he finds and throwing it over his head, shucking on the pair of sweatpants that look the smallest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong makes his way back to the door and pauses, sending a silent prayer that he can get back home without having anything be too terribly awkward. He’s never been good at one-night-stands, the regret of his actions from the night before always causing him to be an awkward, blushing mess when he has to make small talk with a stranger he can’t even remember the name of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just needs to get his phone, find his clothes, change and get the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of there, with the least possible small talk before he embarasses himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With new-found resolve, Taeyong turns the handle, anxiety bubbling in his stomach as he prepares his fakest smile, only to drop the facade, his shoulders in relief when he sees nobody around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes a shaky breath and steps into the surprisingly nice apartment, his feet padding across dark wooden floors as he presses further into the room, taking in the colorful art lining the walls, and the bookshelves that stretch across the wall beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Taeyong is contemplating what sort of literature buff, sex god, art connessieur he somehow found at an upscale bar and went home with, he hears the flush of a toilet and movement rustling behind one of the doors across the room, and freezes in his tracks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raises his hands in a mini panic, wondering how to make this casual, and also how to— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door handle turns and Taeyong’s train of thought shatters, his eyes nearly falling out of his face when he comes face to face with quite literally the last person in the world he expected to come out of that door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because, wearing nothing but a pair of light sweatpants hanging dangerously, suggestively low on his hips, black hair messy and sex-mussed on his head, stands Johnny Suh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny. Fucking. Suh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Taeyong lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a whimper and a squeak as his brain tries to process what the fuck is going on. Because, certainly, Taeyong wouldn’t fuck</span> <span>the only one of his colleagues he doesn’t like. The very colleague that he had been bitching to Doyoung’s husband, Jaehyun, about last night at the very bar he seems to have picked him up at. The same colleague he thinks about killing every time he steps into Taeyong’s studio like he owns the place, just to piss him off. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the worst part of all is the bastard looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>amused </span>
  </em>
  <span>as he takes in Taeyong’s disheveled appearance, his eyes lighting up as they shift from Taeyong’s birds nest of black hair sitting unbrushed on his head to his mismatched combination of clothes he had found in the closet. Johnny’s eyes linger on Taeyong’s chest, and Taeyong watches as Johnny pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, poorly stifling a laugh as his gaze drifts back up to Taeyong’s face, blatant amusement written in the lines by Johnny’s eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing at him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong rapidly looks down at his chest to see what could’ve possibly caused that reaction, only to see a vinyl rendition of Johnny’s face staring back at him, and realizes that in his haste to get out of the apartment, he had failed to even look at what was on the t-shirt before he threw it on, and now is standing in Johnny Suh’s home wearing a t-shirt with the man’s own face on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was like the cherry on top to the worst morning in the history of bad mornings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong tears his eyes away from the shirt, a telling heat creeping up the back of his neck and burning his ears. If he could spontaneously combust right now, he would. He has probably never been more embarrassed in his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, Um, hi. Good morning?” Taeyong pauses, his voice lilting up like a question. Taeyong cringes at the awkward tone, clearing his throat and trying again, “Hello, Professor Suh.” Taeyong raises his chin in the air of false confidence, mentally applauding himself for his voice not cracking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>At the formal address, Johnny’s rich brown eyes light up with amusement. Taeyong swallows heavily , cursing his stupid, treatcherous heart for skipping a beat at the sight of Johnny </span><em><span>smiling</span></em> <em><span>at him. </span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Back to “Professor Suh,” am I?” Johnny laughs, mirth dancing in his eyes. His voice drops, “that’s certainly not what you were calling me last night, now was it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor Lee?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Johnny asks, a smirk pulling at his lips, something dark and enticing in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong flushes with mild horror at the accusation, humiliating thoughts filling his brain with all of the things that drunk Taeyong could’ve possibly called Johnny in the heat of the moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the suggestive tone, Taeyong’s eyes wander down Johnny’s half naked form, wondering how he never noticed that Johnny looks like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>in all the times they’d bickered throughout the school year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny coughs slightly, causing Taeyong to jerk his head back up and meet Johnny’s gaze, only to see an eyebrow cocked in amusement, blushing furiously when he realizes Johnny just caught Taeyong blatantly checking him out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Erm, my phone?” Taeyong asks, barely forming a coherent sentence. “I couldn’t find it,” Taeyong explains weakly, eyes glued to Johnny’s feet, refusing to meet his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it was dead when I woke up so I plugged it in, it’s over in the kitchen,” Johnny explains, nodding his head towards the open kitchen behind him where Taeyong sees the tell-tale white cord peeking over Johnny’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>He sighs in relief, at least he didn’t lose</span> <span>his phone. Just his sanity, it would seem, as he stands in literally Johnny Suh’s living room, wearing borrowed clothes and looking thoroughly fucked.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And my clothes?” Taeyong asks lamely, pleading for this to just end already so he can drown himself in his shame and a bottle of white wine once he gets back to the safety of his own home, and never go outside, ever again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny smiles again, a toothy grin that makes his cheeks dimple slightly, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Taeyong has definitely never seen that smile before. And, </span>
  <em>
    <span>christ, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s cute. This has got to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to Taeyong. Next thing he knows he’s going to forget he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates </span>
  </em>
  <span>the shit-head, and leave his number strategically placed in the kitchen like he had thought about doing before he realized he literally slept with the enemy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this shirt isn’t doing it for you?” Johnny asks with a laugh, gesturing towards the printed version of his face spread across Taeyong’s chest, reminding Taeyong of how ridiculous he looks, causing Taeyong to scowl. “But, it looks so good on you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong’s heart pounds at the compliment, even though he knows it was a joke. His brain doesn’t know what to do with this Johnny. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> Johnny who has a six pack, and makes him laugh, and plugged his dead phone in when he woke up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very funny, John,” Taeyong rolls his eyes playfully, shocked at the lack of venom in the jest, “Do I even want to ask why you own a shirt with your face on it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was a gag gift from Taeil, actually, for my twenty first,” Johnny explains, a fond smile on his lips at the memory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong ignores the fact he has zero clue who this Taeil person is, and double ignores the hint of jealousy he feels at the fact that the mere mention of another man’s name has Johnny looking like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>with a loved-up smile on his face and his warm brown eyes softening. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks like Jaehyun when he talks about Doyoung, Taeyong thinks, almost rolling his eyes at the thought of the lovey-dovey husbands. Taeyong was the only one in their friend group who was still desperately single, and the amount of pda between the husbands and Yuta and his new boyfriend, is enough to make him want to throw up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of the birthday boy, he’s going to kill Yuta the second he gets out of here for letting this happen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny draws him back to the present, answering Taeyong’s original question, “And, I washed your clothes, earlier, they are in a bag over by your phone. They smelled like um, well they smelled like a bar, and they were terribly sticky,” Johnny explains with a grimace that probably matches the one on Taeyong’s face at the thought of how disgusting liquor covered leather probably was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Taeyong asks, dumbfounded, “How long have you been awake?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny tilts his head slightly, his eyebrows quirking up, “A while, Taeyong, it’s,” He pauses, glancing down at his watch, “almost one-thirty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Taeyong mumbles, thinking about how his friends probably think he got kidnapped, or murdered, or both. He shakes his head, moving towards the kitchen to shoot his friends a quick text letting them know that he was alive and very much so </span>
  <em>
    <span>not well</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Well, thank you for that, and for letting me sleep in, I guess. You should have woken me up, really. I didn’t mean to, erm, overstay.. my welcome?” He trails off, not entirely sure if he was really welcome in the first place, but he would need to remember how he ended up here to be sure, and there was a fat</span> <span>chance he was going to be staying around to ask for a recap of the entire night. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well. Of course,” Johnny says, his eyebrows drawn in, a slightly confused expression gracing his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong wonders if he’s missing something, but ignores the anxious feeling in his stomach, busying his hands with fumbling about the kitchen island, unplugging his phone only to notice the hundreds of unread messages that fill the screen before he pockets it. He grabs the bag of washed and neatly folded clothes off the table and wills himself not to swoon at the gesture.</span>
  <em>
    <span> It’s Johnny,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Taeyong reminds himself,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Johnny Suh, who you hate. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks up, clearing his throat to get Johnny’s attention, watching as curious brown eyes swing his way from where they were glued to the tv. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, well, I’ll.. take these,” Taeyong trails off, holding up the bag of clothes awkwardly, “and I’ll be on my way. See you Monday?” Taeyong manages, backing away from Johnny towards the door, so close to freedom he can almost taste it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I really can’t tell if you’re kidding or not,” Johnny says, his eyebrows still furrowed when Taeyong turns back around to face him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong gulps, hoping he didn’t promise to stay for lunch or something when he was drunk off his ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Taeyong asks carefully, praying Johnny will just say </span>
  <em>
    <span>nevermind </span>
  </em>
  <span>and let him get on with his day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, Johnny gestures a hand to the side, drawing Taeyong’s attention to the TV that rests in the middle of the bookshelves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong hadn’t bothered to pay attention to what was playing when he first walked in, the low volume causing Taeyong to easily zone it out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny leans over and grabs the remote, turning up the volume a few as Taeyong realizes he’s watching the Weather Channel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Unprecedented snowfall in New York City this morning, with over ten inches of snow and the wind picking up to 32 miles per hour, this blizzard has taken over the city, causing massive city-wide shut downs. Officials have recommended nobody leave their homes unless it is an absolute emergency.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taeyong zones out shortly thereafter, the weather man continuing on with his spiel as Taeyong feels the world come crashing down on him, the weight of the weatherman’s words hitting him, realizing why Johnny had been so confused when Taeyong had tried to leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallows, looking back up to Johnny’s face to find an almost apologetic expression written across his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So this means...” Taeyong trails off, afraid to speak it into existence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny nods, affirming the unspoken end of his sentence, “Looks like we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for the next few days,” Johnny says, a tentative smile playing on his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just Taeyong and Johnny. Johnny and Taeyong. Alone, in an apartment, for the next </span>
  <em>
    <span>few </span>
  </em>
  <span>days. With nobody but each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Taeyong is fucked. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yay!!! you made it to the end of chapter one ✨✨✨ I hope you liked it and are excited about what's to come bc I am SO excited for this johnyong fic :) </p><p>the first chapter was a little on the short side and I'm going to try to keep this fic below 40k words but there is a lot more to come for our boys !!! no promises on the length though, I AM the queen of word vomit and tangents </p><p>comments/engagement as always are super super welcome 🥺 they really keep me going, and I always respond to everything, I care about everyone reading so SO much !!! </p><p>p.s. for those worriedddd, don't be!! my ongoing johnyong (2,825 mi) is still going to be updated as normal and I have not given up on it, I just will also be working on this one :) the more the merrier, right ?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. petal pink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>welcome to another chapter !! </p><p>in this one we get to see some new faces (virtually), we get to see a looooot more panicked taeyong and FLIRTY Johnny, and as always, we have just some enemies to lovers with lots of sexual tension in the room 👀 </p><p>happy reading! 💗🌤💋</p><p>note: "platonic hubby" is Doyoung, "Takoyaki Prince" is Yuta, &amp; "Jae" is Jaehyun in ty's contacts</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Johnny excuses himself to go put on a shirt, claiming he had waited to finish getting dressed because he didn’t want to wake Taeyong up by going back into the bedroom, Taeyong can only stand there and stare at the empty spot Johnny just vacated, a stupidly blank expression stuck on his face. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong blinks a few times, his mind muddy as he zones out the noise coming from the tv. His brain is trying desperately to process the fact that he is stuck in Johnny’s apartment for the next few days at the same time he tries to process that Johnny is not only being <em>nice to him </em>but also is ridiculously hot. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong snaps out of it a few seconds later, collecting himself enough to walk into the kitchen and unplug his now fully charged phone, and see the onslaught of messages popping up as soon as he takes his phone off of airplane mode. </p><p> </p><p>Not to say that he remembers putting his phone on airplane mode, that is, with everything after drink eight being no better than one long, painful guessing game of “what did drunk Taeyong do this time?”</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, Taeyong can only thank his drunk self for having the foresight to switch it on, sparing Johnny from seeing over 100 messages from the “bible study” group chat, name courtesy of Yuta claiming he once came so hard he saw God.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong cringes as he scrolls too far back into the chat to see his incoherent drunk ramblings, presumably from his ride back to Johnny’s, messy texts consisting of a lot of “hnnghahs HeEJSS SO &gt;?&gt;S&gt;&gt;DJFHA HO” and the occasional all caps “I'M DRUNKFJKSDH,” each text met with equally incoherent drunk ramblings from the others and Yuta’s not so subtle use of the eggplant emoji. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong finally finds where the texts from this morning start and laughs out loud at a selfie of Yuta laying in his bathtub, still fully dressed in his clothes from last night. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>bible study (103 unread messages)</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince:</strong>
</p><p>[IMG attached]</p><p>I’m never drinking again.</p><p> </p><p><strong>platonic hubby:</strong> </p><p>yu… </p><p>pls tell me you didn’t SLEEP IN THE TUB</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince:</strong>
</p><p>… okay i won’t tell u then</p><p>what i will tell u tho is that i think yong got kidnapped</p><p>tracked his location &amp; he’s on the upper east side ??</p><p>at least his kidnapper’s rich i guess</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby: </strong>
</p><p>??? </p><p>what the fuck yuta </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince:</strong>
</p><p>I'm trying to think on the brightside ??? </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>no i mean what the FUCK yuta ????</p><p>i thought we decided u were in charge of getting him home safely</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince: </strong>
</p><p>dude i don’t even know how i got home</p><p>also it was MY birthday</p><p>drunkyong was ur responsibility dude</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong bristles at the nickname, stopping himself from rolling his eyes at the all too familiar jab that his friends have apparently adopted into their everyday language. “Drunkyong” was coined after Taeyong’s 21st birthday when he woke up in a bed with two strangers, a broken arm and a lot of regret, and ever since that night his friends have started taking turns on who makes sure he gets home in one piece. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong had thought that he left that part of him back in college where it belonged, but given that he was so drunk last night he somehow ended up successfully propositioning a man that he actively hates makes him think that maybe he hasn’t quite left all of that part of him in college like he thought he hoped.</p><p> </p><p>He sighs, going back to the chat.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>god ur useless</p><p>taeyong if u can see this blink twice for help</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince: </strong>
</p><p>doie what</p><p>how tf would u know if he blinked </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>idk i think i’m still drunk</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong laughs, glad he didn’t actually get kidnapped and was left with only the three hungover idiots he calls his best friends to save him. He scrolls a little further, stopping to read again when he finally sees Jaehyun chiming in. </p><p> </p><p><strong>Jae:</strong> </p><p>Baby literally how do you not remember who Taeyong left with?</p><p>We talked with him for like an hour.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>WE DID WHAT???</p><p>WITH WHO???</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jae: </strong>
</p><p>Ok maybe not an hour but still</p><p>His hot work friend?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince: </strong>
</p><p>yong has work friends??</p><p>wait yong has HOT work friends?? </p><p>also why the fuck r u both texting u literally live togehter</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>shut up he’s in the other room</p><p>can we go back to ty’s hot work friend</p><p>??/ who the fuck</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jae: </strong>
</p><p>Johnny something? Tae wouldn’t shut up about him?</p><p>Like literally talked about him all night?</p><p>They “hate” each other or some bullshit</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince: </strong>
</p><p>yong went home with EVIL SEXY PROFESSOR ???</p><p>fHKAHDSFKASH WHAT</p><p>so he was drunk drunk</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>OH MY GOD</p><p>who let him do that ????</p><p>Jaehyun did you let him do that?</p><p> </p><p><strong>Jae:</strong> </p><p>Tae called him to come to the bar… like on the phone</p><p>I’m pretty sure I heard begging</p><p>Literally how do u not remember that</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong swallows hard, embarrassment creeping up his throat as he looks away from the screen. So he not only fucked Johnny… but it was also <em>his idea. </em>Taeyong shivers at the thought, a new wave of nausea in his stomach at the fact that he begged Johnny to come to the bar and doesn’t know what else a drunk and needy Taeyong could have begged for. Great. Taeyong scrolls past the rest of the conversation, knowing it's probably for the best if he doesn’t hear any more about how he <em>begged </em>Johnny to do anything. </p><p> </p><p>He hears a rustle of movement in the other room, so he types fast, his fingers flying across the screen to let them know he was alive, albeit not very well. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Me:</strong>
</p><p>I’m alive but god i wish i wasn’t</p><p>yuta i blame u </p><p>god i'm so hungover</p><p>and sORE </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>YONG !!!!</p><p>HE LIVES</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince:</strong>
</p><p>are we gonna pretend like he didn’t just say SORE??</p><p>omg was he big ??? </p><p>was it GOOD 👀</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jae:</strong>
</p><p>The guy was huge dude </p><p>Like taller than me &amp; built </p><p>Taeyong was climbing him like a jungle gym</p><p>Wanted to wash my eyes out with acid</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Me:</strong>
</p><p>I’m gonna pretend like u didn’t say just that jae</p><p>and yuta I am not answering that</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince:</strong>
</p><p>that means yes doesn’t it</p><p>holy fuck</p><p>ur such a little horny monster</p><p>actually can’t believe u fucked mr. evil sexy professor </p><p>and LIKED IT</p><p>
  <strong>Me:</strong>
</p><p>I SAID IM NOT ANSWERING THAT</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince:</strong>
</p><p>FKAHSDJFAHSD</p><p>I'm dead</p><p>this would only happen to u</p><p>this is even better than that time u hooked up w that college kid and </p><p>then he was in the first class u ever taught lmao</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Jae:</strong>
</p><p>LUCASSS</p><p>no i still think that wins</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>LUCASKFHAKSDJFHA</p><p>YUTA</p><p>
  <strong>Me:</strong>
</p><p>NAKAMOTO</p><p>GOD FUCKING DAMNIT</p><p>I THOUGHT I SAID</p><p>WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT ANYMORE</p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince:</strong>
</p><p>FJARDHSFJAH </p><p>sorry</p><p>still fucking hilarious</p><p>😭😭</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>ok wait back to johnny</p><p>was it like awkward when u left</p><p>U all being (ex?) enemies and all</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Me:</strong>
</p><p>DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED FAKJSD</p><p>SO FUCKING AWKWARD </p><p>AND</p><p>I CANT LEAVE</p><p>IM STUCK HERE FOR DAYS PROBABLY</p><p> AND I STILL FUCKING HATE HIM</p><p>I HATE MY LIFE</p><p>
  <strong>Takoyaki Prince:</strong>
</p><p>FAKJSHDFADHA</p><p>WHAT ??? </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>platonic hubby:</strong>
</p><p>STUCK THERE? </p><p>WHAfakjsdhfl ?????</p><p>
  <strong>Me:</strong>
</p><p> GOD DO NONE OF U WATCH THE FUCKING NEWS?</p><p>THE WEATHER CHANNEL??</p><p> </p><p>As Taeyong waits for a response from his friends the door to Johnny’s room swings open, the sudden noise causing Taeyong to fumble with his phone, barely shutting it off before it clatters loudly onto the countertop. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong doesn’t even have time to let himself be embarrassed for that little performance because his brain immediately blanks when he looks up at Johnny, his now empty hands falling limp at his sides. </p><p> </p><p>A little voice in the back of Taeyong’s head tells him that if he stands there for any longer with his jaw slack and his mouth hanging open he’s going to officially make a fool of himself for about the hundredth time in just one morning, but Taeyong ignores that voice, choosing instead to just stare. </p><p> </p><p>Because… because Johnny is still wearing those sinful grey sweatpants that mold to his thighs like it’s their job, but even worse than that, Johnny’s changed into a long sleeve black button down that hangs off his frame, the first few buttons undone to reveal honey tanned skin and the glint of silver peeking out from where layered necklaces sit on his broad chest. Taeyong had thought that seeing Johnny shirtless in sweatpants had been an all-time low for brain functionality, but Johnny in a simple black button down… </p><p> </p><p>It’s not even like it's the first time Taeyong’s <em>seen</em> Johnny in a button down. Christ, all Taeyong has seen him in is a button down. Johnny doesn’t have the excuse of messy clay or errant glaze threatening to ruin his clothes like Taeyong does, sticking instead to the normal NYU professor uniform most days. So sure, Taeyong is used to Johnny wearing a button down, but this time there’s no ugly knit sweater or ridiculous overcoat or blazer or even horrendously patterned tie to distract him, there’s just the way the soft black material clings to the swell of Johnny’s arms and the way the collar hangs loosely over his collarbones, taunting Taeyong with ideas involving his mouth and Johnny’s clavicle that honestly shouldn’t be repeated. </p><p> </p><p>And the longer Taeyong stands there and foams at the mouth at Johnny’s outfit, the more his brain wanders, each passing thought increasingly more dangerous for Taeyong’s sanity. Because as Johnny walks towards him, Taeyong’s mind slips to the thought of how Johnny’s shirt would look if it was on him, instead. The image of how the black material would hang off his pale shoulders and down to his thighs, as he lays back on black silk sheets and watches Johnny come undone at the sight burns itself into Taeyong’s mind. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong clears his throat, dragging his mind out of the gutter before his dick can get any ideas as Johnny passes him, walking into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny frowns, leaning back against the countertop across from Taeyong. It feels like a standoff and Taeyong can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all — standing in Johnny Suh’s kitchen in Johnny Suh’s clothes thinking about Johnny Suh in ways he wouldn’t admit out loud. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop staring at me,” Johnny says, all mock seriousness and direct eye contact. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong balks at the accusation. Suddenly the succulent by Johnny’s sink is extremely interesting and Taeyong can’t look away from it because he definitely wasn’t just staring at Johnny’s chest like a dragon seeing gold for the first time. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong laughs nervously, his hands sweating slightly as they clutch the countertop by his sides, looking for something to ground him. <em>Nervous</em>, as if Johnny could read the dirty admissions of Taeyong’s brain just by looking at the lines of Taeyong’s face. </p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t staring at you,” Taeyong chokes out, eyes still glued to the plant like it’s their job. He winces as soon as the jumble of words leaves his mouth. </p><p> </p><p><em>“I mean it,”</em> Johnny says, a playful whine creeping into his voice. “I already get enough shit for the glasses from all of my friends, I don’t wanna hear it from you too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Glasses,” Taeyong repeats, a confused laugh bubbling from his mouth before he can stop it. Because… What is Johnny even talking about? Glasses? What glasses? Taeyong’s gaze flicks up to Johnny’s face, and sure enough, thin gold frames sit high on his nose, round lenses obscuring Johnny’s eyes and furrowed eyebrows. Taeyong laughs again, a hand flying up to cover his grin as the incredulous sound peels from his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny thought Taeyong was staring at him because he was wearing glasses… </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong laughs at the idea, the loud sound spilling into the room and echoing off of the tiled walls. Johnny had walked into the room dressed like <em>that, </em>so casually sexy Taeyong’s brain shorted at the sight, and he thought Taeyong was staring at him like he had half of a functioning brain cell because Johnny was <em>wearing glasses. </em></p><p> </p><p>Taeyong laughs again, the sound louder now as he slaps a hand on the table beside him. </p><p> </p><p><em>“Shut up,”</em> Johnny says, fully whining now. He crosses his arms as a pout plays across his lips. But the movement causes the material to pull tighter against Johnny’s biceps and Taeyong’s mouth runs dry at the sight, more laughter peeling from his chest at how ridiculous he feels. Johnny looks genuinely offended at the sound, which only causes Taeyong’s grin to widen, his cheeks aching at the effort. </p><p> </p><p>“God, you’re an asshole,” Johnny says as he watches Taeyong fall to pieces in front of him, body shaking with silent laughter, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. One long moment of Johnny staring at him and Taeyong nearly falling to the floor with laughter passes before Johnny fills the silence, speaking again. </p><p> </p><p>“They’re not that bad,” he says, still pouting. The unspoken... <em>are they? </em>following Johnny’s sentence almost makes Taeyong feel bad for laughing. Almost. </p><p> </p><p>“They’re not that bad, no,” Taeyong admits, because really, the glasses do suit Johnny. The delicate frames make perfect sense, only really adding to the English Lit professor aura Johnny already carries. Taeyong would even dare to say he likes them. But he’s still laughing as the words come out and it sounds a lot less like he’s agreeing with Johnny and a lot more like he’s making fun of him.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong sees the second the pout falls off of Johnny’s face and is replaced with something much more predatory settling in Johnny’s gaze. </p><p> </p><p>“And here I thought I was going to be a gentleman and make us both lunch,” Johnny says with a dramatic tsk, “I’m not so sure you deserve it anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny looks all too pleased with himself for the quip, a feline grin pulling at the corners of his lips. His tone successfully makes Taeyong’s teeth grind, laughter dying almost immediately. Taeyong had forgotten for a second that Johnny makes his blood boil, distracted by the general absurdity of the morning.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong is feeling especially reckless this morning, though, body still light with laughter and denial of the whole situation so he responds, sarcasm licking his every word, “you wouldn’t know what a gentleman was if it bit you in the ass, Johnny.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny laughs despite the insult, walking towards the fridge as he shakes his head lightly as if in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re in a rare mood this morning, Lee,” Johnny says, amusement evident in his voice. Taeyong wants to wipe that stupid grin off his face, annoyed that Johnny is perpetually entertained by Taeyong every time he has something smart to say back to Johnny’s quips.  </p><p> </p><p>“You bring out the worst in me,” Taeyong responds, bitter at the fact that he means that too. </p><p> </p><p>“Something like that,” Johnny mutters under his breath, smiling to himself as he opens the fridge. Before Taeyong can process whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean, Johnny turns to him, red lidded tupperware in hand. “Well, do you want something to eat or not, my dear?”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong wants to tell him he can take the tupperware and shove it up his ass, but his stomach is empty and he’s still absurdly hungover, his headache only growing by the second, and if he doesn’t eat something now he’ll probably die, so he musters up his strength and responds as politely as he can stomach, “Yeah, sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny raises an eyebrow at him, not moving from his spot at the fridge, as if he’s waiting for something. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” Taeyong whines, embarrassment creeping up his spine the minute it clicks, and he realizes Johnny’s calling him out on his <em>manners. </em>“Yes, please, Johnny. I would very much like something to eat, thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>“Good boy,” Johnny coos, taking some plates out of a cupboard. “Knows how to say please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, fuck off,” Taeyong groans, fully blushing now, a red and splotchy thing that climbs over his chest and rests on his cheeks. He can’t even focus on the way the words “good boy” in Johnny’s voice make Taeyong squirm with pleasure, too embarrassed by the way Johnny used them. </p><p> </p><p>He kind of wants to just crawl back into Johnny’s bed and die. </p><p> </p><p>“If you want, you could hop in the shower. I’d probably have lunch ready by the time you’re out,” Johnny says, glancing over at Taeyong before he pulls more containers out of the fridge. Taeyong ignores the subtle undertones of Johnny telling him he looks like shit warmed over because he would honestly take any excuse right now to get out of Johnny’s kitchen and run away from the never-ending embarrassment that is his life. </p><p> </p><p>After Johnny directs him to the bathroom with the “better water pressure” — because apparently rich people have multiple showers in their multiple bathrooms in their New York City apartments — and tells him how to work the shower, and what shampoo and conditioner to use for his hair type or something, and a bunch of other bullshit that Taeyong has already forgotten, he is <em>finally</em> alone. </p><p> </p><p>The first thing Taeyong does once the door is shut and locked is yank off his hideous borrowed shirt, making a point to stomp on it, dirtying the vinyl impression of Johnny’s face that is staring back up at him with a mocking smile from the tiled floor. Sure, Taeyong looks ridiculous — stomping on a piece of clothing with a manically pleased smile plastered on his face — and fine, it probably was the least mature thing Taeyong’s done in a while, but something about stepping on Johnny’s face, even just the t-shirt version of it, gives him such a ridiculous amount of serotonin that he can’t even be embarrassed by it. </p><p> </p><p>Once he’s taken his anger out on the cotton beneath his feet, he throws the shirt in the corner and turns the shower on, hoping it’s warm by the time he gets in. He walks back to the sink to set his rings down on the counter, only for his jaw to drop open when he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. </p><p> </p><p>The first thing that Taeyong notices is that his hair is sticking up in multiple directions, the black strands messy and standing up their ends, made greasy by the sheer amount of times Taeyong’s run his hands through his hair from stress since waking up. He feels his face heat with embarrassment at his appearance, the deep red color blossoming across his pale skin, ashamed at the fact that he's been talking to Johnny for the better half of the morning looking like he'd been struck by lightning and dragged through a sewer, the thought of it making him want to lock himself in the bathroom until the snow melts and he can finally run away.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong takes a deep breath, staring at his reflection until he decides that taking a shower will at least fix <em>some</em> of the monstrosity that is his appearance. He looks at his face, his dark brown eyes lined in smudged black eyeliner that remains on his lids, the dusting of glitter on his cheeks and eyes still present from the night before. There’s a smudge of lip tint left on his lips that he wipes away with the back of a hand, a demon deep in his mind wondering if he painted Johnny’s body in the deep color last, if Johnny had to wake up, marked with a reminder of the night before too. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong’s face isn't even the biggest problem, really; at least the black strands will be easy to manage once he's clean, and the makeup will wash down the drain like it never existed in the first place. His body however ... his body is a lot more damning. Dark purple bruises bloom across his pale skin, the marks much more abundant than what Taeyong had initially imagined, the collection of bruises smattering his hips and stomach he had seen when he woke up only a mere shadow of the marks he can see now that he's looking in the mirror. </p><p> </p><p>As he peels off more clothing, flinging the borrowed clothes into the corner with the t-shirt, he takes a moment to just stand there and stare at his reflection, the sight of his body looking so thoroughly ruined causing his dick to twitch in interest, arousal clouding his brain. It's like he's looking at the reflection of someone he doesn't even know. He looks <em>debauched</em>, with his lips slightly bruised and raw, pink with the glint of saliva coating them, bruises tracing a broad map across his skin — the map of Johnny's hands, his tongue, his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong closes his eyes, leaning forward to press his hands into the counter as he tries to control himself. His body has a different plan, however, his brain going back to the memories he has from the night before — the sound of Johnny moaning into Taeyong's ear as his hands claimed Taeyong’s hips, the burning desire that sat in his core when Johnny teased him to the point he almost came untouched, the desire in Johnny's eyes when Taeyong said he wanted Johnny to fuck him raw. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong's eyes slowly flutter back open, meeting his half-lidded gaze in the mirror as he reluctantly drags his mind out of his memories, barely catching his breath as his heart races in his chest. His eyes flicker next to his neck, a ring of delicate bruises tracing the shape of Johnny’s hands around the skin of his throat. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong looks <em>fucked.</em> He hasn't had someone mark him up this aggressively since college. It’s like every bruise, every scratch, every singular mark on Taeyong's body feels like a personal claim from Johnny, the brand of <em>mine, mine, mine </em>on Taeyong’s skin, burning him with shameful lust that starts in the pit of his stomach and spreads, his fingertips buzzing with unbridled desire, aching to touch himself. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong swallows thickly, his breath uneven as his hands desperately dig into the marble, eyes continuing their path. This time his gaze travels down his body, following the sinful map of marks across his skin, muscles taut as he holds his breath. He traces a bruise on his clavicle, the scratches on his chest, a smattering of bruises on his stomach. Taeyong's fingers clench the counter even harder when his eyes drop to his thighs, a surprised gasp falling from Taeyong's lips as he takes in the mess Johnny left. Because it was obvious Johnny had spent extra time marking up his thighs, the pale skin showing the bruises more than any other part of his body. </p><p> </p><p>The worst part is that Taeyong doesn't even hate it, and that thought burns a shameful path through his body. Fuck, he likes it: the sight of his body so wrecked, so marked up, so <em>owned</em>. It's everything Taeyong ever let himself fantasize about, and the worst part of all is that it's Johnny that gave him the satisfaction of looking like this. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong takes one last look at his marked-up body and steps into the shower, the steam surrounding him as he opens the glass door and steps into the water. He gasps, the water so hot it’s almost burning his skin. He closes his eyes, letting the scalding water run down his back as if the hot water could wash away the memory of Johnny's hands claiming Taeyong's hips as he fucked into him.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong moans at the thought, clamping a hand over his mouth as he realizes Johnny definitely could have heard that, sinking his teeth into the flesh of his palm as he tries to ground himself with the pain. </p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t work, the pain in his hand a distant, dull shadow, desire thrumming heavy through his bones, so overpowering he’s buzzing with it. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong raises a shaky hand to Johnny’s body wash, pumping a generous amount of it into his hand, the rich smell of wood and notes of citrus and hints of tea and musk, and everything distinctly <em>Johnny</em> bringing back him back to last night, threatening to bring Taeyong to his knees. Because that smell… Taeyong had been drowning in it — it was on the sheets, on his skin, on his tongue. Flashes of hands and teeth and mouths on skin and sweat and whispered curses and groaned commands flicker through Taeyong’s mind. He shivers, eyes slipping shut as he leans out of the spray of water, one arm coming above his head to lean his weight against the wall, the other slipping down his body in a trail of suds. </p><p> </p><p>When Taeyong finally touches himself, just wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, the feeling causes his ears to fill with cotton, his head falling lifeless onto his forearm as a broken moan slips from his mouth, muffled by the falling water and his soapy skin. </p><p> </p><p>Then he moves his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny's body wash makes the slip sinfully good as Taeyong fucks into his hand, moaning into the flesh of his upper arm at the feeling, the snap of his hips almost erratic as he chases the feeling, white-hot lust coursing through his veins. Taeyong faces one terrible moment of clarity that he's <em>touching his dick thinking about Johnny </em>before his body takes over, any shame dissipating in favor of pure desire. It only takes a few strokes to get him fully hard, his hand barely ghosting his dick, the thought of Johnny's abs and the light trail of hair sneaking into his low waistband that Taeyong saw this morning getting him painfully hard in less than a minute. </p><p> </p><p>It feels <em>wrong, </em>but Taeyong can't stop, the desire overwhelming him as his dick throbs heavy in his hand. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong presses the palm of his hand on the head of his cock, gasping into the damp air at the friction, body arching under the stream of hot water as he lets his mind finally drift to where he’s been desperately trying to keep it from. Taeyong imagines Johnny's hands on his dick instead, picturing how his hand would make Taeyong's dick look so much smaller, how the calluses on Johnny’s hand from writing day after day would catch on the sensitive skin of his head, how the friction would cause goosebumps up his spine.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong whines as he rubs a finger across the slit, a desperate sound that he fails to stop from spilling from his lips, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he chokes back a sob, the raw <em>want </em>throbbing through his body as he focuses on the head of his cock dragging him even closer to the edge.</p><p> </p><p>He feels himself drawing near his peak, muscles in his stomach going taught as he starts to snap his wrist even faster, hurtling himself off the cliff of desire as his knees start to buckle, his mind going white as his vision blanks, ears filled with cotton, as he gets closer, and closer and closer.. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Taeyong?” </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong’s eyes blow wide as he spills into his hand, orgasm wracking through his body as he hears Johnny’s voice call into the bathroom, hand clamped tight over his mouth as he tries desperately to contain the loud moans spilling from his lips as his body buzzes with intense pleasure. </p><p> </p><p>A few horrible seconds later as he watches his cum wash away, swirling into the drain, he feels a horribly contradictory mix of shame and pleasure in every fiber of his being, realizing as his thoughts starts to come back and he catches his breath that it’s been incriminatingly long since Johnny called his name, and he really needs to answer him before Johnny knows exactly what Taeyong’s been doing. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” Taeyong calls weakly, voice pitchy and obviously affected, hoping desperately that the water around him obscures the sound of his shattered voice. </p><p> </p><p>But then Johnny doesn’t speak for a few seconds, the room falling flat with silence as Taeyong curses himself for being so fucking <em>loud, </em>leaning his forehead against the tile, the words <em>Johnny knows, Johnny heard you, Johnny knows what you did, </em>swirling in his brain as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth nervously and waits for the words to hit him. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you like spicy food?” Johnny asks instead.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong sighs, his sated body sagging in relief as his eyes slip shut. “Yeah, I’m fine with anything,” Taeyong responds, his voice thankfully somewhat back to normal. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny makes some noise of agreement and moves away, leaving Taeyong to swallow his shame and embarrassment about the fact that he just got off in Johnny’s shower like some horny teenager that couldn’t control himself. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong tilts his head up, letting the hot water wash away all of the oil and glitter and filth that lingers on his skin. He pumps some face wash in his hand, scrubbing it gently over his face, watching as a path of black makeup slides down his body and into the drain, glitter sticking to his hands as he works the soap into his skin. </p><p> </p><p>He moves on, finding the shampoo that Johnny had pointed out earlier and working it into his hair, relishing in the feeling of his fingertips on his scalp, washing the stiffness from the hairspray and gel out of his hair, the strands softening as he works in the citrusy shampoo. He washes it out and works some of the conditioner into his ends too. When his hair is finally clean and untangled, he lathers some soap across his skin, savoring the warmth of water as it runs down his back and soothes his sore muscles, washing the soapy residue away. He stands for a few more long seconds under the steady stream of water before he sighs, reluctantly turning the water off. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong steps out of the shower and grabs a plush white towel off of the rack, a wall of steam leaving the shower when he opens the door.</p><p> </p><p>He wraps the towel tight around his waist, collecting his clothes from the floor and forgoing looking in the mirror altogether, having made that mistake already and reaping the consequences. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong sends a silent thank you to the heavens that this bathroom is attached to Johnny’s bedroom, forgoing the main room again. If Taeyong had to walk in there right now with just a towel around his waist he would’ve died of the sheer shame of knowing Johnny was looking at all of the marks he left on Taeyong’s body, and probably thinking about what he definitely just heard Taeyong doing in the shower. It was bad enough that Johnny had definitely seen the marks when he woke up, Taeyong doesn’t want to have to actually live through that when he’s awake. </p><p> </p><p>He opens the door to the bedroom, walking to Johnny’s dresser and actually looking at his options this time, making sure the shirt he puts on is respectably plain. He tosses the shirt with Johnny’s face on it in the dirty clothes, hoping he never has to see the hideous thing again. He forgoes underwear, knowing Johnny’s won’t fit him, pulling back on the sweatpants he had worn this morning. The fit of them isn’t perfect but it’s probably the best he’s going to find in Johnny’s clothes. He rolls up the waistband, rummaging through Johnny’s clothes some more until he finds a pair of socks, sighing at the immediate warmth when he puts them on. </p><p> </p><p>He walks over to Johnny’s closet next, rolling his eyes as he takes in Johnny’s racks on racks of ugly professor clothes, skipping over to where his sweatshirts are hanging. Taeyong chooses one at random, pulling it over his head. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong turns to the door and pauses, taking a deep breath and running his hands through his hair, taming the wet strands before sighing and opening the door.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong doesn't know what's worse — the fact that he just got off in Johnny Suh’s shower, or the fact that he feels his dick twitch in interest when he looks up and sees Johnny in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up as he chops something Taeyong can’t see, arms straining against the dark fabric, Johnny’s bottom lip pulled into his mouth as he concentrates on chopping. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong’s going to have to burn that shirt, if he wants to make it through the next few days without making an absolute fool of himself. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong takes a step forward into the room, the sounds of his footsteps causing Johnny’s head to snap up from the chopping board. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, hey. I’m almost done,” Johnny says, holding up a wooden spoon with a small smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you need any help?” Taeyong offers before he remembers who he’s talking to, pausing in the living room and waiting for Johnny to hopefully deny the offer.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Johnny says, vaguely gesturing to the sofa for Taeyong to sit down. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be done in a sec.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong nods, ignoring the way the words “make yourself at home” made his heart flutter, because it’s <em>Johnny’s</em> home and Taeyong shouldn’t even be here in the first place. </p><p> </p><p>“Did you have fun in the shower?” Johnny asks with a little grin, raising his spoon to his mouth as he tries whatever sauce he had been mixing together. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong chokes on his spit, eyes nearly falling out of his head at the accusation riddled in his tone, because Johnny <em>doesn’t know… right… </em></p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” Taeyong asks ineloquently, begging his face to remain neutral, hoping his expression looks innocent enough to pull off. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s good water pressure, isn’t it?” Johnny asks, still smiling around his spoon. He looks amused and Taeyong can’t help to wonder if this is just another time Johnny’s fucking around with him. But Taeyong’s not stupid, so he goes with it, knowing to take the out when it’s given. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Taeyong agrees with a measured smile, “excellent water pressure. Much better than my shower at home,” he adds, hoping Johnny will take the uncharacteristic complement and drop the subject. </p><p> </p><p>“Good acoustics too,” Johnny says off-handedly, looking back down at his cutting board as if the conversation never happened, leaving Taeyong to shrivel and die on the sofa in a puddle of embarrassment. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fuck. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>So, Johnny definitely heard him, and definitely knows exactly why Taeyong was in the shower for so long, and definitely knows it was because of him. Great. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong messes around on his phone for a few minutes, killing time and desperately trying to distract himself from the fact Johnny heard him getting off and Taeyong has to live with that shame under the same roof as him for the next few days. He pretends like everything is perfectly fine as he scrolls through Instagram. He likes the picture Yuta posted from his birthday, the two of them and one of Yuta’s friends from work smiling and laughing into the camera, Taeyong laughing when he reads the comments.  </p><p> </p><p>Doie’s “how was your bathtub nap, birthday boy?” makes Taeyong laugh under his breath, liking the comment before he scrolls through the rest of his feed. </p><p> </p><p>“Honey.” Taeyong hears Johnny call from the kitchen a few minutes later, his voice lilting up as he drags out the end of the word. “Lunch is ready.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong scowls at the domestic term of endearment, his frown only deepening when Johnny laughs at his expression, his face splitting into a grin. It’s the kind of smile that would normally give Taeyong butterflies, all whiskered dimples and perfectly straight teeth.</p><p> </p><p>He looks away. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call me honey,” Taeyong says sternly, pulling himself off of the sofa. He walks into the kitchen, pulling out the bar stool as he reaches for the plate Johnny had set down, the smell of the food causing Taeyong’s stomach to rumble.   </p><p> </p><p>He had forgotten how hungry he was, his mind <em>elsewhere</em> in the shower, but now that he’s looking down at a plate of hot, home-cooked food, his mouth waters, stomach grumbling as he picks up his fork. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny leans forward, pressing his hands into the bar as he looms over the marble countertop, lowering his face to be eye-level with Taeyong. Taeyong swallows as he raises his head and meets Johnny’s eyes, willing himself not to flinch at the sudden proximity.</p><p> </p><p>“And what would you prefer?” Johnny asks with his eyebrows raised, words dripping with rich amusement. Taeyong can feel Johnny’s breath ghost over his lips and he ignores the shiver that runs up his spine.  </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up” he responds immediately, fork dropping on the table as his hands clench into tight fists below the table as he tries desperately to maintain eye contact without getting flustered. “<em>Just</em> Taeyong.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny, of course, ignores him. </p><p> </p><p>“Darling?” Johnny offers, his tone light. Taeyong hates that the delicate word in Johnny’s mouth sets fire to his skin, a blush creeping up the back of his neck. He goes to tell Johnny to fuck off but he just continues, listing more names as he slowly leans closer with every word, “Sugar? Puppy? Cupcake? Love?” His voice drops on the last word, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches Taeyong flinch. </p><p> </p><p><em>“No,”</em> Taeyong chokes out, red blooming across his chest, his cheeks, his ears. He can’t move, paralyzed by the look in Johnny’s eyes, the air around them completely still, as they stay there, faces just inches away from each other. Taeyong’s heartbeat is hammering in his chest, the sound echoing off his ribcage and pounding in his ears. The tension between them only grows with each passing beat of silence. </p><p> </p><p>“Baby?” Johnny whispers, the honeyed word dripping with suggestion, deep and silky as he breathes the word onto Taeyong’s lips, dark gaze never straying from Taeyong’s eyes. If Johnny leaned in the rest of the way, Taeyong’s not sure he would stop him. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong feels his eyes flutter, about to shut, when he realizes he’s <em>leaning in</em> and snaps out of it. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, fuck off,” Taeyong snaps, leaning back in his seat, dizzy at the fact that he was about to 100% sober, no excuses, completely voluntarily kiss Johnny Suh.</p><p> </p><p>“But we were just getting to the fun part,” Johnny purrs, smirk growing as he leans back against the counter, eyes dark with delight as he takes in Taeyong’s expression. Taeyong feels rage rise in his throat as he realizes Johnny was <em>messing with him </em>and he almost fell for it. </p><p> </p><p>“Over my dead body,” Taeyong says with a roll of his eyes, picking his fork back up and shoveling a bite of food in his mouth before he can do anything else stupid. </p><p> </p><p>“You were singing a different tune last night,” Johnny says, laughing when Taeyong shoots him a death glare.</p><p> </p><p>“I was drunk, I didn’t know what I was saying,” Taeyong responds weakly, both of them knowing that it was Taeyong that called Johnny to come to the bar, not the other way around. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny levels him with a look and Taeyong feels his stomach fill with dread at where this conversation is going. “Drunk or not,” Johnny says slowly, eyes flicking to Taeyong’s mouth with something dark in his eyes before he continues,  “you don’t get on your knees and beg someone you don’t find attractive to fuck your throat until you’re crying and choking on their cock—”</p><p> </p><p><em>“Oh my god,” </em>Taeyong whines, cutting him off with his eyes blown wide, “that did not fucking happen.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny laughs at that, a deep sound that’s thoroughly amused, before he continues, voice pitching up in a shitty imitation of Taeyong’s voice, <em>“Fuuuuck, Harder, Johnny. Want you to ruin me, yeeees, ruin me for everyone else. Want to cum on your pretty cock.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Stop it, stop. Holy fuck, stop.” Taeyong chokes out, cheeks burning with shame and horror as the words click in Taeyong’s head. He definitely said that, and definitely meant it too. He looks away, “I’ll admit… okay, I might have said … some <em>things.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’d say so,” Johnny laughs, clearly amused at Taeyong’s humiliation. </p><p> </p><p>“I fucking hate you,” Taeyong says, hand clenched on his fork as he pins Johnny with a death stare. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, we’re gonna have fun this week, aren’t we,” Johnny laughs, picking his bowl back up. </p><p> </p><p>“Something like that,” Taeyong murmurs, taking a bite of chicken.</p><p> </p><p>If he survives it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>you've read the end of chapter two! thoughts on ty's shower scene? 👀 thoughts on Johnny being a cocky little shit who knows how to push Taeyong's buttons? 👀 any favorite moments so far?</p><p>a big thank you to everyone who has been reading so far!! the engagement on the first chapter blew me AWAY you guys amaze me &amp; I adore you SO MUCH! Comments as always are super super welcome, and I loved reading you guys getting excited for the fic in the last one! as always, I respond to everyone and love seeing y'alls thoughts !!!</p><p>the sexual tension keeps rising and rising ,,, bets on when taeyong and Johnny will crack? or who will crack first? they have a lot of trouble to get up to in the next few days!! if you have any ideas on things they should do stuck at home / scenes you'd like to see, send me a cc or dm! I'm always open to new ideas :)</p><p>see you soon with chapter 3! stay safe &amp; healthy 💗 ~ til next time ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. crooked grins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello, hello, hello and welcome back to another chapter of enemies to lovers nyu profs johnyong refusing to acknowledge the sexual tension between them :))) </p><p>apologies for the wait on this chapter - I am sure many can relate, but a looooot of shit has been going down recently &amp; writing has been kinda slow for me! BUT, that's not to say the next chapter will be this long of a wait again, so pls do look forward to that if you're still following along with their story!</p><p>last note ~ this chapter is unbeta'd so pls ignore small errors! I can't always catch them all :) </p><p>thats all for now! Happy reading &lt;3 🦋😽🤍</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I just literally cannot believe you're this fucking boring<em> ," </em>Taeyong whines, already reaching over to grab the remote from Johnny's hand. "Law and fucking order," Taeyong mumbles under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>It was already bad enough that he went home with Johnny even though he's an asshole and a know-it-all and Taeyong pretty much hates him, but to find out he had someone’s dick inside of him whose favorite show is <em> Law and fucking Order? </em>He really needs to stop drinking.</p><p> </p><p>"Law and Order is a perfectly good show," Johnny argues, frowning. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not lost on Taeyong that Johnny hands him the remote anyway.</p><p> </p><p>"Sure, if you’re literally fifty years old," Taeyong laughs, flicking through the channels for literally anything else as he rolls his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>"God. You sound like Mark," Johnny groans, crossing his arms over his chest as he relaxes back into the sofa cushions. </p><p> </p><p>"Wait. Mark as in Mark Lee?" Taeyong asks, brow raising. "Like, English Department Mark Lee?"</p><p> </p><p>“The one and only,” Johnny grins. “Forgot for a second that you knew him, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong laughs, turning his attention back to the tv, “Who doesn’t know Mark Lee would be a better question. He’s like the biggest social butterfly I’ve ever met. ”</p><p> </p><p>“Fair,” Johnny grins, “Maybe a little too social, even. I feel like I know way too much about him. God, especially his fucking crush on—”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Donghyuck, </em>” They both finish, laughing at how scarily synchronized the word comes out. </p><p> </p><p>“I feel bad for him,” Johnny sighs, turning his gaze to his now empty hands. </p><p> </p><p>“Who, Hyuck?” Taeyong jokes, smiling a little when Johnny rolls his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” Johnny laughs. “I feel bad for <em> Mark. </em>He’s had this all encompassing crush on Donghyuck for like a year and a half. Seriously, it’s almost hard to watch him pine after him even though he’s never shown a lick of interest in Mark.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” Taeyong muses, “but if they’re meant to be, then it’ll happen. Even if it takes Donghyuck a few years to figure that out.” </p><p> </p><p>“You believe in soulmates?” Johnny asks, voice soft as an amused smile pulls at his lips. </p><p> </p><p>“What? Like you don’t?” Taeyong throws back, eyebrows raised. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure,” Johnny says slowly. He turns his head, eyes finding Taeyong’s, “I mean, the realist in me wants to say it’s a load of bullshit, but the lit professor in me is amused by the idea.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Amused,” </em> Taeyong repeats, nose scrunching as he rolls his eyes. Only Johnny would be <em> amused </em>by the idea of having a soulmate. What does that even mean? </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Johnny smiles, shifting the pillow behind his back as he tries to get comfortable. “I find it amusing that someone could be out there that’s perfect for me, who’s like waiting for our perfect moment where we meet and the world stops turning, and meanwhile I’m stuck in my apartment with you in the middle of a natural disaster arguing over what shitty television we should watch.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong laughs, punching his arm, “Johnny Suh, are you insinuating that I’m not your soulmate?” </p><p> </p><p>Johnny laughs back. “You <em> wish </em>, Lee.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong turns to find Johnny grinning at him and he smiles back, wide and easy. Then he realizes what he’s doing and clears his throat, turning his head back to the channel guide. </p><p> </p><p>“There,” Taeyong says as he bites his lip, hitting the enter button on the remote and leaning back into the sofa, heart pounding in his chest. “Much better.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Desperate Housewives?” </em>Johnny asks with a surprised laugh. “If you say so.”</p><p> </p><p>✶✶✶     </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong turns to ask Johnny if he already hates Evie as much as he does, only to find him sleeping, head tucked into the corner of the sofa. </p><p> </p><p>The words die in his throat, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in Johnny’s sleeping form, his mouth parted slightly open and his eyes screwed shut, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>He looks younger like this, his features softened and his characteristic sarcastic grin nowhere to be found. </p><p> </p><p>He looks <em> cute. </em>God, why does he look cute?</p><p> </p><p>The longer Taeyong sits there and watches him sleep, the more he lets himself wonder. He lets himself wonder if lazy weekends are always like this with Johnny, lounging on the couch watching tv and drinking coffee, napping and listening to music. He lets himself wonder if this is what it would be like to wake up next to Johnny in the mornings, wonders if he had woken up a few hours earlier if this is how it would’ve felt. He lets himself wonder what Johnny would do if he leaned over and kissed him, woke him up with a press of his lips and soft words; if he crawled into his arms and went to sleep right next to him, legs tangled under the blanket. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong tells himself he doesn’t care. </p><p> </p><p>He tells himself that it means <em> nothing.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He still turns the tv off so it doesn’t wake Johnny up and pulls the blanket up over his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>✶✶✶     </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>bible study</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Me:</b>
</p><p>can you like someone and want</p><p>to kill them at the same time or are those</p><p>mutually exclusive things?</p><p>asking for a friend ...</p><p>
  <b>Takoyaki Prince:</b>
</p><p>“asking for a friend”  🙄 suck my dick yong</p><p>say you have a crush on Johnny and go</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>platonic hubby:</b>
</p><p>you can definitely want to fuck someone</p><p>and kill them at the same time ...</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jae:</b>
</p><p>Doyoung i’m going to pretend you didn’t</p><p>say that … and also pretend like u never felt</p><p>that way about me  ...</p><p>Also, define “like” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Me:</b>
</p><p>ughhh i don’t even KNOW</p><p>that’s the problem</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Takoyaki Prince: </b>
</p><p>you don’t know or your “friend” doesn’t know 😼</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Me: </b>
</p><p>SHUTfhkajhsd</p><p>this is why i don’t go to you for advice 😭</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>platonic hubby:</b>
</p><p>i say maybe try and feel it out.</p><p>do you want to hook up with him again</p><p>and maybe see if there are feelings? </p><p>or what</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Me: </b>
</p><p>how could I NOT want to hook up with him again</p><p>he’s my type and funny and tall and smart….</p><p>BUT IDKKK this is so hard</p><p>I’m worried it’s just like cabin fever</p><p>But what if I actually start to LIKE him...</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Jae: </b>
</p><p>Would that really be the worst thing?</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Me: </b>
</p><p>I mean I hate him</p><p>or  i at least THOUGHT i did…. now i’m </p><p>just overwhelmed and confused 😭</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Takoyaki Prince: </b>
</p><p>you don’t really hate him bub</p><p>he frustrates you, yes</p><p>he may even piss you off, sure</p><p>you don’t HATE him though</p><p>he just knows how to push your buttons</p><p>and you let him do it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Me:</b>
</p><p>god….</p><p>I’m like stuck between wanting to</p><p>push him off a cliff, wanting him to fuck me </p><p>til I can’t walk, and finding him desperately</p><p>charming and adorable  😭</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>platonic hubby: </b>
</p><p>how to unread “fuck me til I can’t walk” </p><p>that’s where I tap out </p><p>pls let us know if anything happens though</p><p>this is the most entertaining thing that’s happened </p><p>to you in years </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Me: </b>
</p><p>*sigh* fine go</p><p>I’ll keep y’all in the loop 🙄</p><p> </p><p>✶✶✶     </p><p> </p><p>When Johnny finally wakes up a few hours later, pillow lines creased into his cheeks and black hair falling in messy waves on his forehead, he’s more than a little out of it. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong, of course, finds it desperately endearing that Johnny’s eyes search for him almost immediately. He looks away when Johnny meets his gaze. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” Johnny asks with a yawn, perched up on his elbows from the sofa. He frowns, staring at where Taeyong’s standing in the kitchen with a tilted head. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong laughs, gesturing towards the pot of pasta he’s stirring. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s nine pm, what’s it look like I’m doing?” Taeyong retorts, biting the inside of his cheek when Johnny rolls his eyes and lays back down. “I’m cooking us dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong feels his stomach roll at the sound of “us” coming from his mouth. Johnny and Taeyong. Taeyong and Johnny. <em> Us. </em>He doesn’t like it, but he can’t say he hates it. Johnny keeps talking, oblivious to the internal conflict in Taeyong’s head. </p><p> </p><p>“You were just gonna let me sleep while you cooked?” Johnny asks, raising a brow. </p><p> </p><p><em> Obviously </em> he was just going to let Johnny sleep —  he was being quiet and adorable and Taeyong was weak for it. At Taeyong’s silence and quickly reddening ears, Johnny starts to laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“Gone soft for me already, Yong?” Johnny asks. His lips are stretched in a lazy, crooked grin, his expression the very essence of cockiness. He shifts, his arms coming over his head in a long stretch that shows his happy trail in a way that feels entirely deliberate. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong scowls. <em> Yes. </em>“Absolutely not.” </p><p> </p><p>“Sure, baby, if you say so,” Johnny hums. “You could have woken me up if you were hungry, though. I can’t have you leaving my apartment thinking I’m a horrible host.” </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong bites his tongue before responding to that how he really wants to, <em> I can take care of myself perfectly fine without your help.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Instead he turns, delicate fingers still stirring the pasta, and tilts his head. He takes a deep breath before smiling. “You <em> are </em> a horrible host.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong knew exactly what he was doing when he said that, and yet a wicked grin still pulls at his lips when something flashes in Johnny’s gaze. Taeyong’s mind wanders to earlier’s conversation, Yuta saying that Taeyong <em>lets </em>Johnny push his buttons. Because Taeyong hadn’t seen it earlier. But now … Taeyong sees it now. But he supposes Johnny lets Taeyong push his buttons, too. And maybe Taeyong doesn’t hate that as much as he should. Fuck, he might even like it. </p><p> </p><p>“Am not,” Johnny whines, somewhere between mock offended and actually offended. “I have been nothing but a gentleman.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Gentleman,” </em> Taeyong repeats with a scoff, eyebrows rising as he feels a flash of annoyance rise in his chest. “Please. What is it with you and that word? Nothing about the fucking mess of marks you left on my body last night screams ‘gentleman’ to me.” </p><p> </p><p>The second the words leave his mouth he regrets them. </p><p> </p><p>Because any and all softness is now wiped from Johnny’s face, eyes clouded with something heavy and dark as his gaze flicks down to Taeyong’s chest before returning to his eyes. The air in the room between them is thick, charged and sparking like a live wire in the middle of a storm. </p><p> </p><p>“Marks?” Johnny asks slowly, throat bobbing as he slides off the sofa and pads across the wooden floors towards Taeyong, eyes never leaving his. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong takes one step backwards before he realizes that there’s nowhere to go, his hips hitting the edge of the counter as his breath catches in his throat. He pushes further back until he’s flush against the wall, his heart pounding in anticipation. Taeyong is merely a gazelle trying to run from a lion but realizing there’s nowhere to go. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s nothing, just forget about it,” Taeyong responds quietly, his words measured. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get out of this, whatever <em> this </em> may be. Hell, he doesn’t know if he wants to. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny just shakes his head, still walking forward with that look in his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Taeyong,” Johnny starts, stopping just a foot in front of him, eyes boring into Taeyong’s. He reaches for Taeyong’s wrist, prying the wooden spoon out of his hand with gentle fingers before setting it on the counter, warm fingertips lingering on the pulsepoint of Taeyong’s wrist before returning to his sides.</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong swallows hard, unable to look away. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s nothing,” Taeyong repeats weakly, the words falling flat even as he says them. It’s hard to say the marks are nothing when he’s <em> seen </em>how ruined he looks; when he knows what seeing him so marked up did to him; when he knows what it will probably do to Johnny. His dick twitches at the thought, heat pooling low in his stomach and causing his cheeks to burn. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny steps even closer, reaching out until his fingers brush the hem of Taeyong’s sweatshirt. He pulls lightly at the fabric, knuckles just barely skimming the skin of Taeyong’s stomach. Taeyong jolts at the touch, hips coming off the counter reflexively as the muscles in his stomach go taut. He goes perfectly still, mind at war between desperately needing Johnny’s hands on his skin and hating himself for wanting him all in the same breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Johnny,” Taeyong pleads, not even sure what he’s asking for anymore. </p><p> </p><p>“Show me?” Johnny whispers into the inches between them, hand still clutching at the dark fabric. His gaze is heavy with need and his face is tinged pink high on his cheeks and Taeyong slowly feels his willpower slipping away from him. <em> “Please?” </em>  Johnny asks, and Taeyong’s resolve shatters at the single fragile word in Johnny’s mouth.  </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong’s eyes slip shut as he nods, hands desperately gripping the empty air at his sides as he tries not to move. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny’s hands slide under his sweatshirt and loop around Taeyong’s hips, warm fingertips pressing dimples into the soft skin of his sides. Johnny tugs him forward, pulling him away from the wall and closer to the heat of his body. Taeyong sighs into the touch, his body chasing Johnny’s. Johnny slides his palms back around until they’re flat on the planes of Taeyong’s stomach, and then his hands are sliding the material up, and up, and up. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong gasps when the cold air of the room hits his chest, his nipples budding under the frost tinged air. Johnny’s knuckles brush his nipples as he pushes the material up his chest and Taeyong’s body cants forward, chasing the fleeting touch like he’s addicted to it.  </p><p> </p><p>Every nerve in Taeyong’s body is alight and firing, his body thrumming with need. Johnny’s hands leave his chest to reach around his back, tugging the material over his head in one swift tug. He pulls the soft fabric all the way off until Taeyong’s standing bare before him, pale skin marred in a constellation of bruises and marks. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong feels it rather than hears it; Johnny’s quick gasp of air hits his face first, brushing over his lips from how close they are standing before ghosting over his cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>And then Johnny reaches out with a trembling finger and traces one bruise, low on Taeyong’s hip right above the line of his sweatpants. Taeyong’s hips jerk under the touch. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” Johnny whispers, fingertips dancing up Taeyong’s torso to trace the darker bruises around his collarbones and neck. <em> “Fuck,” </em> he repeats, voice thick. <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Taeyong’s eyes flutter back open and he feels his blood heat from the way Johnny’s looking at him — unbridled desire filling his gaze as his eyes wrack Taeyong’s body, tracing every mark, every bruise, every trace of his mouth on Taeyong’s skin from the night before. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny’s nose brushes Taeyong’s, their foreheads coming together as they breathe into the space between them.</p><p> </p><p>“Johnny,” Taeyong breathes, fingers clutching desperately into the front of his shirt. </p><p> </p><p>It’s as close as he’s going to get to begging Johnny to kiss him. And if Johnny doesn’t kiss him now, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. </p><p> </p><p>“Taeyong,” Johnny whispers back, eyes slipping shut as his hands slip back around Taeyong’s waist. A finger dips into the waistline of Taeyong’s sweatpants, teasing pressure just above where he wants it causing Taeyong’s dick to start to swell in his pants. Taeyong fights the urge to push back against the hand, wanting Johnny’s touch all over his body. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny’s fingers stay put on the base of Taeyong’s spine as he leans down, the cold tip of his nose sliding against Taeyong’s cheek as he drags his lips down to Taeyong’s, closing the gap between them. </p><p> </p><p>And then Taeyong hears a phone ring, and he jolts in Johnny’s arms, his forehead bumping into Johnny’s nose as he pulls away. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong launches back into the present, his mouth going dry as he takes in the scene before him — his hands twined in Johnny’s shirt, Johnny’s hands on his bare skin, the charged air between them. </p><p> </p><p>What the fuck does he think he’s doing? Johnny — Johnny is his <em> colleague. </em>Johnny was supposed to be a one-time mistake, not someone who’s taken over his brain and turned him into lust-addled mush in the middle of his kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, eyebrows ruffled and hands up like he’s worried Taeyong’s hurt. It only makes the dull ache in his heart hurt more. </p><p> </p><p>“We just, we shouldn’t—” Taeyong starts, panic rising in his chest as his hands wrack through his hair.  He stumbles backwards, body trying to go anywhere but in the warm circle of Johnny’s arms. “We shouldn’t. The phone’s ringing.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t give a fuck about the phone,” Johnny challenges, taking another step forward. But it just keeps <em> ringing </em>, and Taeyong’s stomach is starting to clench and all of the sudden he’s all too aware that he’s standing shirtless in Johnny’s kitchen, half-hard and frustrated and fucking terrifed of how insane his heart is beating right now. And it’s too much. Fuck, it’s all too much. </p><p> </p><p>“The phone’s ringing,” Taeyong repeats, voice cracking. His eyes search for the discarded heap of dark cotton somewhere on the tile floor, all but avoiding Johnny’s pleading gaze. </p><p> </p><p>“Taeyong, stop. Wait, please—” Johnny tries, but Taeyong’s already pulling the sweatshirt back over his head with trembling, turning to the stove and pressing his trembling fingers to the counter top as he begs his heart to slow down. </p><p> </p><p>The pasta is overcooked now, a pot of useless mush. Taeyong curses under his breath as he turns the stove off, moving the pot over to the sink and pouring the wasted food out. </p><p> </p><p>“Answer the fucking phone, Johnny,” Taeyong grits out, dismissing him. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong watches Johnny deflate out of the corner of his eye, his shoulders sagging and his hands falling back down, hand grabbing the still-ringing phone and answering it before he’s even stepped out of the room. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p> </p><p>✶✶✶     </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong’s pouring his second attempt at the pasta dish into two bowls when Johnny walks back into the room. Taeyong focuses on getting all of the noodles into the bowls, too scared about what he would find in Johnny’s expression if he looked up and met his gaze. </p><p> </p><p>“Who was on the phone?” Taeyong asks softly, begging Johnny to answer him and not let the rest of the night be terribly awkward. </p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” Johnny says, voice short. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong looks up at that, an eyebrow raising in question. </p><p> </p><p>“Put the pot down,” Johnny demands suddenly, still walking towards Taeyong with determination set in his brows, mouth a thin line. He looks pissed, and it only serves to make Taeyong’s heart race. </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Taeyong asks, dumbstruck. His hands go still, but he makes no point of putting the pot on the counter. </p><p> </p><p>“Put the fucking pot down, Taeyong,” Johnny repeats, rolling his eyes. He reaches Taeyong just as the pot kisses the edge of the counter, and then he’s pressing Taeyong up against the refrigerator door, arms bracketing either side of his head. “And <em> kiss me.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Johnny’s hand cups his chin and that’s all it takes before Taeyong’s eyes are slipping shut, a gasp falling from his mouth that Johnny immediately swallows, his lips slotting between Taeyong’s as his body pushes him back against the cool metal door of the fridge. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny lets out a small groan of frustration as he tries to speed up the kiss, his tongue begging for entry into Taeyong’s mouth. Taeyong parts his lips, moaning when Johnny licks his tongue into the heat of his mouth, tracing the backs of his teeth as he claims Taeyong’s mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong kisses back just as hard, hands not knowing where to go as his senses are all filled with <em> Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.  </em></p><p> </p><p>One of Johnny’s hands slides down the fridge to wrap around Taeyong’s waist, pulling him right into his chest until their hips align. The friction causes Taeyong’s fingers to clench into Johnny’s shirt, his teeth pulling Johnny’s lower lip into his mouth, skin buzzing when Johnny lets out a small moan from the back of his throat. </p><p> </p><p>And then, just as quickly as it happened, Johnny’s pressing one final peck to Taeyong’s mouth before pulling back, arms falling back down to his sides. Taeyong stumbles forward slightly, his lips chasing Johnny’s before he catches himself.</p><p> </p><p>“What was that for?” Taeyong asks, out of breath and eyes wide as he stares up at Johnny, hands hovering in the air like they still aren’t sure where to go. </p><p> </p><p>“Unfinished business,” Johnny murmurs, wiping the pad of his thumb across Taeyong’s lower lip. Taeyong opens his mouth slightly as if to suck the digit into his mouth, and Johnny’s eyes flash, drawing his hand back. His chest is heaving when he takes a step back to put distance between them, eyes heavy with lust. </p><p> </p><p>His expression shifts after a moment of loaded silence, a smile pulling at his lips as he looks at the two neat bowls of pesto pasta Taeyong had laid out on the table. “Now, dinner?”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong blinks slowly before nodding, his lips still numb with the taste of Johnny swirling on his tongue. </p><p> </p><p>“Dinner,” he chokes out, heart still hammering in his chest when he grabs his bowl and brings it to the dining room table with trembling fingers. </p><p> </p><p>✶✶✶     </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong still hasn’t recovered from the kiss halfway through dinner, his body mostly running on autopilot as he shoves the noodles into his mouth, not even tasting if it’s good or not. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny asks him something and he makes a grunt of agreement before he realizes he doesn’t know what the other said. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait, what?” Taeyong asks, eyes snapping back to Johnny’s for a moment before returning to his bowl. He swallows hard, shoveling another bite into his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“I asked when you normally go to sleep,” Johnny repeats, smiling as Taeyong’s ears burn red. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Taeyong says dumbly, brain stumbling over the fact he’s going to have to sleep in the same bed as Johnny. The same bed as Johnny, who just ravished him in the kitchen. Johnny, who, no matter how much pesto Taeyong shoves down his throat, he can still taste on his tongue. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Oh,” Johnny grins. “So?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not especially partial,” Taeyong shrugs, pushing a noodle around mindlessly as he tries to figure out what Johnny had wanted him to respond when he asked. “I normally go to bed around 12, but I can stay up later if you don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Considerate of you,” Johnny grins, taking a sip of his water. </p><p> </p><p>“I aim to please,” Taeyong responds sarcastically before realizing what he just said. His blush, if possible, deepens. </p><p> </p><p>“You seem like the type,” Johnny comments offhandedly, presumably amused by the side eye that Taeyong cuts him, the look screaming <em> what the fuck does that even mean?  </em></p><p> </p><p>Choosing not to open that can of worms, Taeyong steers to conversation back to what’s important. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you have any pajamas that would be small enough to fit?” He wonders aloud, thinking about the flannels he had seen earlier when he was looking for sweatpants. Given how poorly the grey sweats he’s currently wearing fit, he doesn’t have high hopes for the pajama pants either. </p><p> </p><p>“You can sleep naked,” Johnny grins, cheeks whiskering.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Johnny,” Taeyong scolds, eyes widening. As if he would survive a night naked in Johnny’s bed but not touching him. </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Johnny asks, voice pitching up like he did nothing wrong, like <em> Taeyong’s </em> being the ridiculous one. “Nothing I haven’t already seen before.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just for that, you’re sleeping on the sofa,” Taeyong says, standing up to wash his now empty dish. “Can’t be trusted.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please. You know I wouldn’t mind,” Johnny continues, standing up and following Taeyong into the kitchen. He stops right behind where Taeyong’s standing, his breath fanning over Taeyong’s neck. “You, naked in my bed, all to myself. I wouldn’t mind at all.”</p><p> </p><p>Chills erupt over Taeyong’s skin, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the edge of the sink as he tries to stop himself from leaning back into Johnny’s chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck you,” Taeyong spits out, turning around to face Johnny with red cheeks. He realizes belatedly that this position is significantly worse, with Johnny’s lips once again just inches away from him, his hips nearly pressing into Taeyong’s.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny laughs at that, shaking his head before stepping around Taeyong. </p><p> </p><p>“You make it too easy, Yong,” he grins, amusement riddling his tone. </p><p> </p><p>“Yong?” Taeyong asks before he can help himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Johnny shrugs, placing the bowl in the drying rack as a smirk toys at his lips. “I’ve had my tongue down your throat a few times now, I feel like we’re on nickname basis.” </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong feels his cheeks heat as he turns away, going back to washing his dish in the sink with shaking hands as he tries not to let Johnny see how affected he is. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny’s laughing all the way back to his room, a grin on his face and his eyes scrunched in amusement. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m getting ready for bed,” Johnny calls as he passes through the door, leaving Taeyong alone for the first time in hours. “Come in whenever.”</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong takes a few deep breaths, eyes slipping shut as he leans against the cupboard. </p><p> </p><p>Sleeping. In the same bed with Johnny. Without touching him. </p><p> </p><p>He can do it. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong takes another deep breath. </p><p> </p><p>He can do it. </p><p> </p><p>✶✶✶</p><p> </p><p>Taeyong finishes the VOGUE  magazine Johnny had handed him at about the same time Johnny’s putting his bookmark back in whatever book he’s reading — some thick hardback that looks well-loved, like this isn’t the first, or the second time Johnny’s read it. Johnny takes his glasses off and folds them, placing everything back on his bedside table gently before turning back to Taeyong. </p><p> </p><p>“Lights off?” Johnny asks softly, to which Taeyong nods, wiping at his eyes as a yawn slips from his lips. </p><p> </p><p>Taeyong tries not to stare at the way Johnny’s entire back flexes when he reaches to turn the lamp off, his broad muscles flexing under the movement. But it’s hard, when Johnny looks like <em> this. </em>Taeyong is struck with the urge to reach out and feel how his muscles move under his palm, run his hands over the course of Johnny’s skin languidly, pressing a kiss to the middle of his spine for safe keeping.</p><p> </p><p>He had tried to convince Johnny to wear a shirt to bed to absolutely no avail. He had been all ‘<em> I get too hot when I sleep, Taeyong, wah wah wah’ </em>and Taeyong had simply stood there in his men’s XL pajama set that was barely staying on his frame and scowled, knowing that his sanity was going to be challenged by sleeping next to a shirtless Johnny all night, while dressed like Ebenezer Scrooge. </p><p> </p><p>When the room finally goes dark, Taeyong turns to his side, letting his breathing slow as he tries to think about anything other than how Johnny’s breath is hot on the back of his neck, and he’s wearing practically nothing only about a foot away from him. </p><p> </p><p>A few long minutes pass and after some heavy tossing and turning, it’s clear neither of them are asleep. </p><p> </p><p>“Taeyong?” Johnny’s voice rings out into the silence, a mere whisper that catches in the air and carries, filling the dark room. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” Taeyong hums. His eyes slip back open but he doesn’t move, his face still smushed in the black silk pillowcase he had made fun of that same morning. </p><p> </p><p>“You know I wouldn’t —” Johnny pauses, trailing off. His voice sounds uncharacteristically nervous, and for some reason <em> that </em> unsettles Taeyong more than anything else that’s happened all day. Johnny audibly swallows but makes no move to continue speaking. </p><p> </p><p>“Wouldn’t what?” Taeyong prompts him softly, turning to face Johnny in the dark. He can see the outline of  Johnny’s profile in the moonlight trickling into the room, the curtains carelessly left open in their sleepy haze to fall into bed. The pale light illuminates the slopes of Johnny’s face, the delicate curve of his nose and his plush lips seeming to glow, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny blows out an air before he turns to face Taeyong too, finding his eyes. It feels intimate, their faces so close together, bodies on separate sides of the bed but curving towards each other like their limbs ache to tangle together under the sheets. </p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t, ah, I wouldn’t <em> want </em>to do anything ever that, uh, upset you, or made you feel like you weren’t safe in my home, or with me. God, never with me. I know that I joke around a lot, but I just can’t go to sleep thinking that you might not be comfortable being around me, or unhappy because of the circumstances.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny won’t meet his eyes once the words leave his mouth, the honest whisperings hovering in the air between them. It’s not tense, though, as Taeyong might have imagined. It’s rather gentle, like a comforting blanket that smells like Johnny and Taeyong wants to hold close to his heart and keep safe. </p><p> </p><p>“Look at me,” Taeyong whispers, seeing the anticipation and fear in Johnny’s eyes when he meets Taeyong’s gaze. Taeyong reaches out the few inches and brushes Johnny’s hair off of his forehead before his palm slides down to his face, fingertips tracing Johnny’s cheekbone softly. Johnny’s eyes slip closed as he chases the touch of Taeyong’s hand, warm cheek pushing into Taeyong’s palm. When Taeyong draws his hand back, Johnny’s eyes find him again, waiting patiently for Taeyong to speak. </p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Taeyong smiles softly. “You might be a pain in the ass, but you make me feel safe, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny laughs, some of the worry set in his face seeping out as his lips turn up in a small smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Johnny murmurs, hand reaching out and finding Taeyong’s on the mattress between them. He holds Taeyong’s hand in his palm and plays with his fingers, and Taeyong knows that nothing else has to be said. Johnny knows that Taeyong’s being sincere, and Taeyong knows that Johnny would never hurt him. Johnny’s fingers squeeze Taeyong’s once more before he’s taking his hand back to his side of the bed, a smile and a “<em> goodnight, yong” </em>whispered into the midnight air before he’s turning back over to sleep. </p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight, Johnny,” Taeyong whispers back, feeling oddly fond. </p><p> </p><p>He falls asleep thinking of a strange phone-call, voice muddled with as he begs someone to come to him, over the phone. Taeyong can’t remember what he wanted, he only knows that the person <em> needs </em>to come to him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’ll be there in five minutes,” the voice responded, words stern and deep, “Be a good boy for me and wait, okay? Don’t move.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’ll be good,” Taeyong responded, words slurring together as he giggles into the phone, “I’ll be so good for you, Johnny.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The scene fades out as another takes over, and somewhere deep in Taeyong’s subconscious he realizes that it wasn’t a dream at all. </p><p> </p><p>That was a <em> memory.   </em></p><p><br/>
<br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>waiting for the comment: so when are johnyong going to fuck? 🙄</p><p>answer: soon. very soon. perhaps next chapter if you're good ;) </p><p>anywho ~~ thank you for reading! 🥺 I have always had so much fun writing this fic and I have genuinely so many things in store for these two that i can't wait to write and share with everyone! comments/ kudos/ engagement keep me going so pls yell at me down below, I'd love to be inside all of your sexy brains :)))</p><p>until next time, happy johnyonging and i love you all :) 💗</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/theyongprint">twitter</a> or send me a <a href="https://t.co/Fe7Q70wmoj?amp=1">curiouscat</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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